


I Have A Lot Of Memories, And I Have A Lot Of Sadness

by TransTroubadour



Category: High Noon Over Camelot - The Mechanisms (Album), The Mechanisms (Band)
Genre: Angst, Brian Oxidizes, Brian is made of brass so he can't rust he oxidizes, Forced Words, How Do I Tag This, Hurt No Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Not A Fix-It, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, brian doesn't have control over his prophecies, i am gay, i make reference to my own poetry, no beta we die like the pendragons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 19:02:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28533345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TransTroubadour/pseuds/TransTroubadour
Summary: Brian had never wanted this.  He came to this station to save it from ruin, and all he knew is that he could try.  He did not know how, he did not know why, all he knew was that a part of being a Mechanism meant his life was filled with tragedy, and he would hope that he would be lent a gracious mercy, and allowed to see one story flourish.Brian falls in love with Galahad and only wishes he could've saved him.
Relationships: Drumbot Brian/Galahad (High Noon Over Camelot)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	I Have A Lot Of Memories, And I Have A Lot Of Sadness

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Only Heaven I'll Be Sent To (Is When I'm Alone With You)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28532046) by [soclosethatisafruit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/soclosethatisafruit/pseuds/soclosethatisafruit). 



> I am a DrumBot-Brian-does-not-rust-because-he's-made-of brass truther and hey what better to do then write angst about it.
> 
> Title is from Tango Dancer from Ghost Quartet
> 
> I don't think there are any warnings I should add but feel free to tell me if so!

Brian had never wanted this. He came to this station to save it from ruin, and all he knew is that he could try. He did not know how, he did not know why, all he knew was that a part of being a Mechanism meant his life was filled with tragedy, and he would hope that he would be lent a gracious mercy, and allowed to see one story flourish.

Alas, instead he fell in love. A wandering preacher by the name of Galahad had come from the far reaches of sky to Camelot, and he was a beautiful missionary. Brian would’ve converted for the man he’d fallen for, if it weren’t for the reverent way Galahad looked at him, a look he knew meant that Galahad saw him as holy.

Worship, such a personal thing, and Brian agrees. Each day he is blessed by the fact Galahad chose his temple to worship at, the side of his head whirred with sacred texts that were not to be read but listened to, and Galahad listened. Sitting beside the Hanged Man, he’d listen to Brian sing for hours, songs and stories from his time in the stars, Cinders’ Song, Stranger, Elysian Fields, sad songs of love, hymns from the prophet.

Until one day, Brian felt a song rise in his throat at dawn, before Galahad could arrive. He knew this feeling well, a prophecy, and if his dreams were any indication, he did not want to hear what his song would say. Just days before he had tried to speak to Gawain, only to be shunted, he tried to tell Arthur the news, only to be dismissed, and he worried what reaction may damn Brian’s still beating heart.

For once Brian did not enjoy seeing the figure approach, back lit by the sun flickering to life. He kept his mouth shut as Galahad greeted him, lips sealed as though it would stop the inevitable. The ritualistic kiss upon the temple, gentle and warm, and only silence passed between them.

The brightness in Galahad’s face flickered just as the sun did, but dimmed into concern.

“Dear, are you alright?” He questioned, worry prominent on his face, which only deepened as Brian shook his head violently. Then, his love began to sing, 

“Deep within the depths of the station,

You’d find the key that brings your salvation,

Ornate and hidden past pain and privation,

It’s clutched in the Captain’s cold hands.

But take your seat, the one that they warn you from,

Galahad, be strong, its visions,

May overwhelm but they won’t steer you wrong.

Follow them through to your fate.”

As he sang, Brian watched as Galahad stared at him in reverence, concern washing away from his face. He could only wish that it would return, that his love would not leave his side, and yet he was drawn to this station, and he knew why. He knew that he had come with a purpose, to save this station, but he knew that as a Mechanism, that his tales could only end in tragedy. So he looked at Galahad's face, and took in every detail he could find. The crinkle of his eyes into crow’s feet, the lines carved into his tan skin, his wavy hair, bleached and lightened from his days in the sun.

“Lover of mine,” Galahad spoke, “Are you saying we could save the station? We could be free from it all? The heat, the violence, the hatred in their hearts, it could all end?” Brian was silent for a moment, wanting to stay Galahad’s lover, to keep him by his side, but he knew what must happen.

“Yes, yes we can, it all can be over.” Brian murmured to him, leaning into the hand on his face, before it was gone. He said goodbye, and watched as Galahad ran to the town hall, to chase his prophecy.

Soon, Galahad came out of the hall, looking different. He did not turn to stare at Brian, not even to spare a glance, he just turned and went to a building Brian knew he called home.

It was high noon over Camelot, hot and searing as his skin reflected the sun. Galahad did not come out of his home. 

It was afternoon, the air savouring the dry heat of the light. Galahad did not come out of his home.

Dusk fell, and soon, tears did too. Galahad did not come out of his home. 

Helplessly, Brian tugged at his bindings in vain, he knew after years that today would not be the day they break, and Brian had never witnessed a miracle. His damned eyes spilled tears, rolling down his temple, down to his hairline, and into his copper wires. He wept long and hard, and his skin began to oxidize, his hair now lined with teal, and his temple,  _ Galahad’s Temple _ , grew corroded and bubbled with erosion.

For this hanged man, would never be able to rust.

Years later he crew of the star ship Aurora would retrieve him, and none would dare to ask why his face is stained with sorrow.


End file.
